


Völur

by SkepChick



Series: Völur [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Mythology, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Historical Fantasy, Magic, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Witches, female main character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepChick/pseuds/SkepChick
Summary: This story began as a writing challenge from a friend to write a smut scene for her and Loki that used only dialogue scrounged from the Loki's Dirty Secrets blog on Tumblr (which if you're a Loki fan and haven't checked out, you REALLY should!) and has now morphed into a romantic novella. This is the first time I've ever published any of my work online so I hope y'all don't hate it.This work pulls from a lot of sources. the Marvel universe, Norse mythology, Celtic mythology, and even actual historical events which I have somewhat fictionalized for the purposes of this story.A young woman receives an inheritance she must learn to understand, before it kills her.....Loki, God of Mischief receives a series of unexpected night time visitations from a most peculiar intruder and vows to get to the bottom of it all.....Meanwhile in the shadows, a hunter stalks it's ancestral prey.





	Völur

Christmas Eve 1617  
Kiberg, Norway

The cold wet grass stung her bare feet as she scrabbled up the hill to the very edge of the great cliff. Scraping and scratching on the rocks until her hands and feet bled freely. Dropping to her knees at the precipice she scanned the clouded gray horizon frantically, searching. _They had to get away. Please. Please gods let this not be for nothing._ She heard the pounding hooves of her pursuers closing in. They weren’t in a hurry. Where could she go?  
Her fingers dug into the earth as her gaze frenetically jumped from spot to spot on the gray choppy sea in search of her very last hope. The scent of beer and horses wafted on the wind from behind her. Too late! Her mind screamed. It’s too late! But then a twinkling out on the waves caught her eye. The gray light of the cloud covered sun glinting off of something manmade. Small. Ever so small at this distance but there it was! The tiny skiff and its precious cargo already halfway down the coast line. Halfway gone. Gone and safe. Her ragged breaths turned full and calm she gave one last weakened and dirty smile.  
“Witch. You are cornered. There is nowhere left to run.”  
She dropped her head with an exhausted chuckle. She scratched her fists closed on the ground. Gouging the earth and taking up handfuls of pebbles and dirt wet with the sea spray. With the earth in her hand she rose and turned.  
“Think you so, Judge?”  
“You have been found guilty of witchcraft and the practice of dark Magics!” He pronounced, his tone imperious. “Of consorting with devils and blaspheming the name of our lord! Our mercy for your condition has run its course and you will come now to you judgment.”  
Two burly bailiffs, down from their mounts stepped forth to arrest her. She held up her hands, balled fists around the small pockets of sea and earth within.  
“Halt! Step you no further.”  
As they faltered she glanced quickly over her shoulder at the little boat jutting down the coastline. Just a bit farther, she thought. She needed to stall a moment more to ensure their safe escape.  
An impatient nod from the black clad judge had the bailiffs edging toward her once again.  
“Halt!” she said, and began drawing deep within her on the wellspring of power that laid inside. Drawing and drawing more and still more. More than ever she had even dared to dream she could. As the power began to burn her veins and muscles she opened her eyes crackling with electric sparks and her hands upon which two tiny clods of wet earth sat and began to tremble.  
“I am Kirsti Sorensdatter, Daughter of Soren Alvasdatter! I am Völur and I call upon all the power of the earth and sea to aid me in my time of greatest need! I call upon the gods of my countrymen the Vanir and Aesir to stand witness upon these men who judge and murder us who follow your ways! I call upon the One-Eyed Wanderer and the Bargain that Was Made! Let not these hateful men who do not honor your ways murder another! Yet let them be judged by our ways! By Earth and Sea, Wind and Wave shall they be punished and their cries for mercy shall go unheard as rocks beneath the waves!”  
As she spoke the ground beneath the horses began to tremble. The wind began to moan louder and whip the robes of the judge until he was forced down from his fine horse. The raw power flowing through her seared her every nerve ending with white hot licks of agony but she dared not stop. The waves crashed louder and higher until they lapped at the very cliffs edge and at the feet of them that stood upon it.  
The judge and his men began to call upon their own god to save them. Kirsti dropped her hands and stepped toward the quavering Judge. Her hands crackling with power she reached down and grasped the cowering man by the neck of his robes and lifted him to his feet. The fine cloth of the Judge’s robes smoked and burned in her grasp.  
“Y-you must stop!” he wailed “Witch! You will kill us all!”  
She smiled serenely into his terrified face and her voice was heard by all in the keening of the wind;  
_**“A mother will die to protect her child.”**_  
As the dawning light of understanding and horror began to wash over the Judge Kirsti stepped back, off the edge of the cliff and into the dark maelstrom of wind and storm, dragging the judge with her. As their forms disappeared into the crashing gray madness of elemental rage it seemed as though the sea burst open and hurled itself at the sky. The sky likewise whipped the earth into the sea in a howling chaos of power and pain. Ships out on the sea were tossed to their doom, Mighty trees were pulled into the whirlwind of water and stone and throughout it all the wind screamed like a woman giving birth. Forty men lost their lives in the storm that rose up out of nowhere. Ten boats were sunk. The coastline, forever altered, was left in shambles and it took months for the tiny fishing community to rebuild itself. The only ones to survive the maelstrom were those on board a tiny skiff that had sailed south down the coast. A tiny babe clutching at a silver ring tied to her neck with a braid of her mother’s hair. She didn’t even cry during the storm.  
Kiberg, Norway never arrested another witch. 

 

******************************************************

Asgard:

Cool stillness had settled over the rooftops of Asgard. A crystalline silence spread and invaded every crack and crevice. The boisterous feasting and drinking that so often lit the Asgardian palace nights was absent this night. Even the cool breeze that kissed the water in the crystal pools did not ripple their surface, but his mind could not be still. The untroubled air he projected at all times was a mask over his hypersonic mind on the best of days but tonight... tonight, even more so.  
He really should just leave the palace. Find some grim adventure with his blundering brother. Perhaps they could slay some fearsome beast or wage a small war… somewhere. Anything to take his mind off of the… visitations. He had no better term for them. These small invasions in the dark of the night over which he had no control and he felt he could no longer trust himself with. This was not who he was! He was Loki, Prince of Asgard, god of mischief, powerful Mage. Yes, all that and more! It was HIS place to be playing pranks and turning others into jittery shambles of men trying to out-think the god of schemes. Yet here he was, jumpy and restless. Each small sound causing his long, lithe muscles to tighten and coil like springs ready for attack. He was said to be made of cold, calculating ice but tonight he could feel hot blood racing through every artery and vein. It pounded in his ears and caused his very being to thrum in anticipation and a light sheen of sweat to glisten on his pale skin.

It had been this way now for the past several months. The…visitation, the very word and its vagueness made his face twist in self-disgust, didn’t happen every night. Surely he would have gone all the way mad by now if they had. They seemed to happen monthly. Not always exact but exact enough that he’d noticed the pattern. In the time between occurrences he would obsess momentarily over the event and then find his way toward forgetting it entirely, until the time approached for the next. That anticipation had grown unbearable. Yet, perhaps he wasn’t going mad after all. Perhaps it was a trick being played by some idiot who seriously underestimated his prey.

Any moment now.

There was no avoiding it. With a defeated exhalation he turned from the splendor of the moon dark city that spread below his balcony and made his way inside. He stripped himself of his robes, slowly. Confidently?  
Taking care to remain as outwardly calm as possible. Not that anyone was watching.  
_Were they?_  
His eyes covertly flew to the shadowy corners of his chambers searching for the tell-tale gleam of eyes he already knew weren’t there. Did his breath catch as the sweet breeze swept over his body raising gooseflesh and hardening his pale nipples?  
_Not at all,_ he told himself. Did his hands tremble at the ties of his trousers? _Of course they didn't, _he assured himself as they pooled at his feet and he made his way to his bed. He lay back, naked, against the soft, smoothness of his bed almost forgetting to breathe in and out and in again. He pulled the thin silken coverlet up to his waist swallowed hard. It was almost time. His eyes strayed involuntarily to the clock over the mantel piece he could barely hear the clock’s mechanism ticking over the pounding of his own heart.__  
11:59.  
Tick, tick, tick...  
The graceful ding of the tiny silver bell signaling midnight nearly made him jump out of his skin. His heart pounded so, he was sure all of Asgard must hear the crashing, thundering din of it. He breathed in, he breathed out, every cell in his lithe frame alive and screaming in anticipation...  
She rolled over and lay her arm across his middle.

____

 

************

She snuffled softly and drew herself closer to him. Cuddling in her sleep. Sudden as lightening his anticipation eased. Her touch was like wind to a candle flame. The blood that pounded in his ears moments before now turned and surged in... other directions.  
She smiled in her sleep and sighed lazily as he rolled to face her as well. Her hand traced from his belly across the hard planes of his chest and up his neck to gently cup his cheek, one finger absently tracing his lower lip.  
He pulled her closer in, reveling in the softness of her in contrast to his hardness. It was a juxtaposition that never failed to arouse him. He held her in his arms, drinking her in, knowing time was short but loathed to rush. He brought his face close in to hers and brushed her forehead with the lightest of kisses. Ever so softly whispering; "Tell me, do you return night after night because satisfaction isn't in your nature either?"  


She shifted her touch from his cheek to twine her fingers into his dark hair and pulled him down to her lips in a kiss that poured fire into his body in the slowest and most delicious of floods. This was new! In the months since this somnolent intruder had begun appearing in his bed she had never kissed him or shown any hint of carnal intent. He had had thoughts, of course, too many to count. How could he have stopped himself thinking of the pleasures of the flesh with a nude woman lying next to him, sometimes even molding her soft, naked form against his in what anyone but him might call cuddling. Yet she had never kissed him. Never made any action toward him that wasn’t if not entirely platonic then certainly not sexual.  
Her leg languidly dragged up his own and lay heavily over his hip, the warmth of her pressing against his thigh forced a soft groan from him. She captured his small noise with her mouth, deepening the kiss to slowly lave his tongue against hers, provoking a shudder of lust in God of Mischief. This may be new, but he very much welcomed it.  
She smiled again with her eyes closed, always closed, and lowered her head to leave a trail of kisses down his neck and shoulders. Each one burned his skin as hot as an ember as she ventured ever downward.  


The moment her mouth found him his eyes flew open, wild leaping blue flame. He gasped. The perfection, the heat of her soft mouth as it closed over his hardness would surely drive him mad. Slowly, deliciously slowly she began to move. Hollowing her cheeks as she withdrew and laving him with her tongue as she bore sensuously back down upon him. Her head rose and fell in almost perfect counterpoint to the beat of his bounding heart. His breath came raw and ragged to his lungs as he buried his hands in her hair. Her hands caressed the length of his sinewy torso in long strokes mirroring those farther down. A hoarse cry escaped his lips as her nails dug into the hard planes of his chest and dragged downward. He gripped the sheets beneath him as he felt himself nearing wildness. Just before he exploded she lifted away from him leaving him gasping unsteadily as she crawled up his body, intent as a lioness stalking her prey. Her eyes closed, as always.  
"Where exactly did you learn to leave a god powerless, pet?" Loki quipped with breathless grin.  


Languidly she mounted him, sought her position with rolling, maddening movements of her hips as his hands roamed her body smoothing his long, pale fingers over the ample curvature of hip, belly and breast until after what seemed like an eternity she found her purchase and began to sink, ever so slowly, onto him.  
Had he thought her mouth on his cock would send him into insanity? Surely that was nothing compared to this achingly slow penetration? He needed to bury himself inside of her! Plunge so deep that there was no him or her anymore, to thrust, to invade, to take her NOW! He grasped her by the waist in an attempt to pull her harder onto him. His fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hips in an attempt to take control. He was not to have it. Though she was much smaller than him with delicate bones and soft skin she peeled his hands from her hips and threaded her fingers through his own. She leaned forward capturing his hands above his head as she dipped in to kiss him deeply. With their intimacy curtained behind her thick curtain of dark auburn curls, he drank her in like wine as she rode him. He could do nothing but experience her, and to him, she was perfection.  
Slow lightning raced through every nerve fiber as she rode him singing out through his body from the place of their joining. Wave after wave of sensation bore down upon him threatening each time to drown him. He didn’t know how long he could last, his breathing was desperate and ragged, his usually silver tongue useless as all he could utter were low moans and growls of ever heightening pleasure.  


Her movements began to gain in pace as her own completion drew near. Her body began to tense above him and he started thrusting upward into her as much as he could to help her achieve it. She sat up and planted her hands upon his chest, her back arching her back arching as her orgasm began to rip through her. He grasped her thighs as her body tensed and shuddered. The exquisite tightness of her flesh surrounding his manhood gripped him in a vice of hot, slick velvet and he shattered shortly after.

She slid down his body and nestled into the crook of his arm as their breathing returned to its normal rhythm. Spent, he gazed down at her, the fine skim of sweat on their bodies causing them to glow in the low lamp light. As if she were encased in a thin sheet of amber. He studied her. As he had now for weeks. The corner of her mouth lifted in a self-satisfied, cat-like smile. Her eyes, closed as always, not for the first time he wondered what color they were. Ever so softly he swept a lock of hair from her face as he whispered; 

“Don’t go. I want you to stay.”  
His words surprised even himself. He hadn’t realized, until tonight, the attachment he had grown to this invader. This stranger with whom he had, apparently now, become so intimate.  
She stirred, eyelids fluttering. His breath caught in his throat with a jolt of excitement, but it was short lived. Just as her eyelids began to part, before he could even glimpse a sliver of color between her thick lashes she melted away from him. Like a dream in harsh daylight. With a defeated sigh Loki found himself alone again. He lay back in the darkness of a moonless Asgardian night, his fingers tracing the reddened marks on his chest. Four long welts made in the heat of passion. In a moment of embarrassment at his earlier foolishness and feeling very defeated he scrubbed his hand across them as though he could erase them. The friction caused a slight stinging needle of pain run the length of each welt and of a sudden a glimmer of mischievous wickedness lit his narrow face. Up until tonight he had half wondered if she wasn’t really a dream or a product of creeping madness, but the faint stinging pain of these scrapes confirmed for him that she was, in fact, a flesh and blood reality…  


And he **would** find her…

 

*******************************

Norway:

 

There was a crash in the next room. A clattering of knick-knacks and broken glass of from atop a small pie crust table being heaved to the floor as the old woman desperately pulled herself through the house and away from her pursuer. She knew she was dying and didn’t have much time. Intense bands of crippling pain banned about her chest, choking the life from her body. Slowing her heart one precious beat at a time. _Time! No time. No!_ There was so much she hadn’t explained yet! _She_ was in danger! She must do whatever she could with the time she had left to deflect that danger, slow it down if she couldn’t stop it.

Slowly as any predator the Hunter stalked her from room to room. She was dead already why didn’t she just lie the hell down and accept it? From the bedroom a muffled thump, a crash and then… finally silence. _About goddamned time! _thought the Hunter. Old women shouldn’t ever be that hard to kill. It had taken far too long after the initial injection for her to finally succumb. It was a very good thing she lived such an isolated life or the Hunter’s job would have very quickly been compromised.__  
Stepping into the room the Hunter studied the corpse on the floor. A look of desperate horror frozen on the old crone’s haggard face. With a cursory glance at the rest of the room the hunter set about the job of returning the house to rights. Luckily most of the mess was just in things being knocked down rather than broken. Should be a quick clean-up job. No one must guess that this insignificant old woman’s death was any more than the heart attack the drug that was even now dissolving in her slowing blood stream would show it to have been.  
A suitcase with extra latex gloves, a few tools for fixing anything that might have inadvertently broken and a series of detailed photographs taken of the inside of the property some weeks ago were the Hunter’s clean-up kit. As the hunter set about righting the tumbled decorations and bowled over furnishings, painstakingly comparing the arrangements to the reference photographs, the light of a knocked over lamp caught the edge of a gilt photo frame underneath the dresser. It would seem the old battle-axe had attempted to throw it underneath the furniture. Odd behavior. The hunter reached down and pulled out the small frame, turned it to the light. Beneath the glass a pair of women smiled guilelessly at the Hunter. The old one he recognized as the slowly cooling corpse on the floor, but the other… The other was younger. Daughter? No the daughter was already dead. Decades ago. That had been in the dossier. The old woman had no family. Yet, if she had no family then who was this young woman smiling out of the frame with the same features as her counterpart? This young woman with long dark auburn curls and the same hazel eyes. 

__  
Perhaps the hunt wasn’t yet finished…_ _


End file.
